The Earning
by Maeleene
Summary: Anything fought for is earned, and Yuuri soon finds himself in a truly epic battle for something he thought he’d never want.
1. Burning

The Earning

by: Maeleene

Chapter One: Burning

A/N: My first KKM fic. I don't know why, but I wanted to show Wolfram in a state of... well, near-insanity over something. I think he has the capability, with how deeply he feels things. I think it's just a matter of what sets him off, what the trigger is. 

Anyway, please don't be too hard on me, but feel free give me feedback! I love suggestions! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou or any of the characters. Promise. 

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"_Thoughts mixed with definiteness of purpose, persistence, and a __**burning**__ desire are powerful things." - Napoleon Hill_

---

The porcelain basin went crashing to the ground.

Next came the curtains.

_Childish._ The bed canopy.

_Bratty. _The night stand.

_Insensitive._ The dresser.

The words came crashing down on Wolfram, and so did his room. 

_Spoiled prince. Selfish loafer. Pretty boy. _

The mirror. The mattress. The picture frames.

Those silly words and names didn't matter when his family said it. Not when the soldiers giggled about it. Not when the foreigners scoffed over it. They were just titles. Pathetic, really. 

But when Yuuri said it... When Yuuri confirmed them...

"_Geez, Wolfram! I'm beginning to think they're right about all your silly nicknames! Stop acting so jealous and just be _reasonable_ for once!!"_

Yes, be reasonable, because loving a boy was far from reasonable. Because giving your heart out only to be broken every day was not even logical. Yelling about it afterwards? Well, that was just plain stupid. 

Wolf's breath came in staggered pants as he stood shaking. His room was a mess, but he didn't feel satisfied. 

When Yuuri had said that simple statement, he had stared at the king wide-eyed, stunned. Yuuri didn't seem to notice, or maybe he chose not to. Wolfram wasn't sure. But when Yuuri's shoulders had slumped and he sighed, the blond had turned on his heel and walked calmly away. He didn't turn around when the other boy called for him to come back, didn't stop walking when he commanded him as the Demon King to listen to his apology. He didn't stop until he got to his room and, in a fit of rage and sorrow and disbelief, he began destroying it. 

But it wasn't enough yet. 

In frustration, he sent his fist through the window, the sharp edges cutting his hand as he pulled back. 

Damn that _WIMP_!! Damn Yuuri for making him like this! He nursed his injured hand and gritted his teeth. It hurt. His heart _hurt_, and he didn't know what to do. The words stung, and he couldn't just brush them aside. He didn't know how to when Yuuri said it...

And then he felt it. The heat, the anger. He felt it rising up and seeping out of his skin. It made Wolfram feel better, not quite as helpless. He could feel his mouth curl upwards into a sick looking grin. And he could feel the fire forming in his hand, winding slowly around his fingers and nestling in his shaking palm. With steady steps, he made his way to the destroyed bed, and opened his fist.

The fire spread quickly, dancing along the feather pillows before jumping onto the down mattress and racing across the silk blankets. Wolf couldn't help it. He chuckled, throwing the fire towards his art supplies on the ground across from him. The blaze spread, charring the walls and flicking out the shattered window, circling around the Mazoku until he was sure he would burn, too. A sick feeling bubbled up from the pit of his stomach, curling up his throat until it came out as frantic laughter. He heard pounding on his door, but all he could do was fall to the floor, clutching his sides as he laughed.

The hilarity of this situation was obscure at best, but he laid back with a goofy grin as he watched the ceiling burn. The flames looked so pretty. Peaceful in their wrath. This was the destruction he was looking for. 

The door crashed to the ground and, frowning, Wolfram cursed the unusual rain that fell inside the room, dousing his fire. 

---

"_A good way to threaten somebody is to light a stick of dynamite. Then you call the guy and hold the __**burning**__ fuse up to the phone. 'Hear that?' you say. 'That's dynamite, baby.'" - Jack Handy_

-----

A/N: Well... Continue on:) Review, please! Comments and criticism welcome.

Chapter Status: Complete 


	2. Churning

The Earning

by: Maeleene

Chapter Two: Churning

A/N: Well, change of plans and of title! See bottom A/N for more info. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: They are not mine, and woe is me.

-----

"_A quarrel is like buttermilk once it's out of the __**churn**__; the more you shake it, the more sour it grows." - Irish Saying_

---

Shibuya Yuuri Harajuku Fuuri was not a strategist. He left that up to Murata. He was impulsive, came to conclusions at the drop of a hat, and rarely second-guessed his actions. Many people thought this was because he didn't think on things hard enough, but they were wrong. Quite the contrary, actually. He thought deeply on all matters, however impulsive they might seem at the time. He just thought quickly. Village burning? Save it. Humans need help? Lend a hand. Leave the 'how' up to Gwendal or Conrad or Murata. He knew the answer to the most important question. Yuuri knew the 'why.'

But when Wolfram overreacted again? Rational thought flew out the window.

It wasn't Yuuri's fault. Not really. It was just no one else _could_ annoy him so much. No one else could make little, pointless accusations seems so hurtful. He tried his hardest to shrug it all off, and most times he did.

Those times he managed to ... they should count for something, right? So why was it his one slip up seemed so fatal?

Yuuri glanced warily at the smoke billowing out from beneath the door crack, his heart skipping a few beats. His fists pounded on the door, demanding entrance.

"_Geez, Wolfram! I'm beginning to think they're right about all your silly nicknames! Stop acting so jealous and just be _reasonable_ for once!!"_

A terrible choice of words, looking back on it. He should have thought more on what he was saying and, now that the words were out of his mouth, he couldn't think of any answers as to why he said them.

_Silence. Trying to keep strong, to forget the implications. And then realization. Horrification. Weak attempts to sooth the shocked, pained look in green eyes. Rejection. Pursuing. Pleading. Panic._

A jumbled mess. Reflecting didn't help him now.

Struggling with the heated knob of the door, Yuuri called out for help. The smoke seeped up from the ground and choked him, and he covered his mouth, ramming his shoulder into the door.

He had considered following Wolfram right away, only to hesitate because he didn't particularly _like_ being screamed at. When one of the maids raced towards him, informing him of the crashing and then the smoke coming from the prince's room, he had paused only to ask _where_ this alleged room was before racing down the hallways to his accidental fiancé.

"Open! The! Door! _Wolfram!!_" Yuuri yelled between bombardments. Hysterical laughter met his demands, and he growled, letting his anger overtake him to block out the growing feeling of dread.

He was thankful when Conrad appeared, pushing the king aside to kick the door down himself.

With all the smoke, Yuuri had _expected_ a fire. And while the size of it was mildly surprising, almost frightening, what really made his insides churn and his heart clench was Wolfram, sprawled in the center of the rapidly approaching flames, head tilted back, choking on laughter that made tears stream down his sooty cheeks.

Something in him slid out of place, clicked somewhere else. The guilt ate at him, and his whole body trembled for a moment. He could _feel_ the power rising up in him, feel it like he felt the tears budding at the corners of his eyes. And then it rained.

-----

When Yuuri came to, his first thought focused on his growling stomach. When had he last eaten, anyway? He couldn't recall taking lunch with Greta today as he normally did. As if in a dream, he stood up, running his fingers idly along the silk coverlets, and slid his feet into the shoes beside his bed. The sun was setting outside, the sky dyed in all shades of red and gold and orange. The green leaves of the trees seemed to glow and turn iridescent in the sinking sunlight. He admired the view for a moment, thinking. It looked like a brilliant fire.

And then his head spun, and his step faltered, and the panic gripped his chest so tight he thought his lungs would burst. Fire. There had been a fire, and Wolfram laughing, and rain. What had happened?

He dashed out of the room, heading for the blond's room. The entire hallway was smoke-stained, and the room itself was filled with broken glass and black ash. Whatever the decor had been was now indistinguishable, and he pitied the maids for having to clean this mess. But he hardly thought on that. He desperately needed to find Wolfram, and Wolfram was not here. The entire wing was eerily quiet, and so he slowly wandered further down the halls.

When all else failed and injury was involved, there was only one other place _to_ check.

When he reached the infirmary, he stopped. Should he knock? Was Wolfram even in there? Maybe he was really just fine. Or ... had he dreamt the whole thing up? The blond could have some seriously bad tantrums, but he'd never burnt down a room before. He didn't even know Wolf _had_ a room of his own.

But the heat of that fire had been real, so he opened the door.

Conrad turned to greet him first, with a small smile and nod of his head. Gunter, torn between staying quiet for his daughter's concentration or bounding to his king with worried hugs, stayed seated, though his disposition brightened considerably. Gwendal, obviously annoyed by all of this, was gritting his teeth in the corner with his arms crossed. Though he outwardly did not appear concerned, there were obvious new wrinkles on his brow.

Only Gisela did not greet him, her attention turned solely to the bed's single sleeping occupant. Yuuri turned to him, too, swallowing back the bile in his throat.

It wasn't that Wolfram looked seriously injured. Thank Shinou, he wasn't horribly burned or maimed. His pale skin was covered in black smoke and soot, and he looked ashen. One of his arms was burned, with ointment spread generously in thick globs along the charred patch of skin. His hand was bandaged, but otherwise, he was outwardly fine. What made Yuuri ill was the sound of his raspy breathing, interrupted by hideous fits of coughing and choking.

Conrad walked towards him and rested a hand on his shoulder, offering a little assurance. "Smoke inhalation," he murmured. "It was fortunate that the window was broken. It could have been a lot worse." He paused, as if contemplating, then ducked his head down. "We had to sedate him. He wasn't quite himself when we found him."

"_Wasn't quite himself..._"

The haunting laughter echoed in the king's head as he let Conrad escort him to a chair, his eyes never leaving Wolfram's face. He wanted to say he understood what his mentor was saying, wanted to nod his head and understand what his _fiancé_ had been thinking, wanted to pretend to know and comprehend everything, but he couldn't even get his mouth to open.

"_Just be reasonable for once..._"

It seemed like hours before Gisela opened her eyes and sat back with a long, tired sigh. She offered a fleeting smile to Yuuri, then addressed the room.

"He should be fine. The burn will need new ointment applied every three to four hours, and back sure he doesn't use his hand for a while. Have him stay in bed until the rasp goes away." She paused, frowning as she thought, then stood. "And make sure he doesn't act up again. Keep him calm, and if he goes into hysterics, call on me again." She made a quick bow and then departed, closing the door behind her.

Gwendal remained in his corner, eyes fixed on the youngest brother. Gunter calmly followed his daughter out of the room to hear any further instructions. Conrad stood beside Yuuri, but couldn't think of anything to say.

The silence in the room made Yuuri shiver.

---

"_The last thing carriers want to see is something that can increase __**churn**__ when they're desperately trying to drive it down." - Dylan Brooks_

-----

A/N: Well, there you have it. I guess I'm going to make this into a multi-chapter sort of fic (which is really strange, since it originally started out as a one-shot). I was drifting off to sleep the other night when I said, "I should make the next story rhyme with burning. But there are so many good words and themes to choose from!" I considered making a series of fics, but then I decided that would be too many. In the end, I guess I'll put it into one story and change the title! So, to all those confused, don't worry! So am I:)

Anyways, please review. There's nothing really exciting in this chapter, and I apologize. I just had to do some filler. Hopefully, you'll understand this chapter's theme, churning. Good word for character development. Anyway! Let's see if the next chapter will be any better! The title will be...!

... Spurning!! Ooooh! Nice word, huh? What will it be about??

Please review! Those little comments make me endlessly happy.

Chapter Status: Revised


	3. Spurning

The Earning

by: Maeleene

Chapter Three: Spurning

A/N: Edited and revised chapter two, though it may undergo more revision in the future. You never know with me. :)

So... Yeah! Here's chapter three! I hope it's up to standards with everyone.

Disclaimer: Belong to me, Kyou Kara Maou does not. Ain't that a bummer?

-----

"_For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, the pangs of despised love, the law's delay, the insolence of office and the __**spurns**__ that patient merit of the unworthy takes, when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin?" - William Shakespeare, "Hamlet"_

---

It was bright. Too bright, really, and Wolfram had no intention of opening his eyes anytime soon. It wasn't just because he was lazy. His lids felt like they had one hundred pound weights on them, and his head was pounding at a near-nauseating intensity. His ears, however, continued to work just fine.

"Please, Your Majesty, it's late. Get some rest. I'll look after him."

"It's Yuuri, Conrad, and thanks, but no thanks. I'd rather stay here."

There was a sigh, the shuffling of feet, and the sound of a door opening.

"All right. I'll go get you a spare blanket."

"Thank you, Conrad."

The door closed.

Wolfram was suddenly all too aware of the silence, of the heat in the room, how _stifling_ everything felt. His fingers twitched as he tried to keep up his sleeping facade. Why couldn't Yuuri just go away?

After several minutes, Wolfram sighed inwardly and let his eyes slide open slowly.

Black eyes bore into his own, and he instantly regretted his decision to 'wake up.' If he thought it would help, he'd feign sleep again, but the look in Yuuri's eyes told him that he wouldn't back down now that the blond was conscious.

"Wolfram! Thank goodness!" The king all but leapt out of his chair and sat on the infirmary's bed, holding his fiancé's uninjured hand. When the other didn't say anything, he squeezed the appendage and frowned deeply. "What were you thinking? You could have been killed!"

A gradual panic seized Wolfram, and he resisted the urge scream. He was sure no words would come out, so he instead turned away and tugged uselessly at his hand to free it from Yuuri's grasp. He succeeded only at hurting his burn and stopped.

Yuuri, however, did not let up. "I was so worried, and you wouldn't open the door! And there was so much smoke, and you were laughing, and I didn't know what to do."

Wolf shivered despite the heat surrounding him and swallowed large lungfuls of air, tasting panic and smoke on his tongue.

"And then I woke up, and I thought maybe it was a dream, but it wasn't. I've been worried sick. You've been asleep for hours. Gwendal already left to go to sleep, so it must be really late, and Greta's been worried sick. She fell asleep next to you. Gunter took her to bed." As he spoke, Yuuri leaned closer to Wolfram, his other hand lightly touching the blond's cheek, too frantic to notice the way the other cringed at the contact.

"Why did you do it, Wolfram? What got into you? I know we had a fight, but we always do. And I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it, but you normally don't act so... so... strangely. Wolfram! Why won't you say anything?"

The scream that had been building up inside the fire mazoku burst forth, desperate sounding and shrill, and he shoved at Yuuri, shaking all over. He paused only to cough, panting as his smoke-filled lungs protested, and while he regained his breath, he hurled a pillow at Yuuri.

"Get out! Get out, get out!!"

Yuuri remained stunned on the floor, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He gazed at the boy, awestruck.

"Get away from me! Get out! Stop _looking _at me!! _GO!!_" Wolfram stood, trembling with fatigue and anger and hysteria, and threw the remaining pillow at the boy. He advanced upon the king, coughing and screaming nonsense until he stood before him.

"Wolf... ram..." Yuuri managed, staring the boy in the face.

"Get away from me."

It wasn't a scream. It wasn't even a command. It was a plea, whispered, delicate and soft, before the laughter came.

Wolfram collapsed onto the ground, laughing and coughing and nearly crying, clutching the bedframe in a white-knuckled grip. He gasped for air, feeling foolish and so unlike himself, but unable to help it. His brain was in a frenzy, his thoughts racing in unfamiliar patterns, and the only thing that made sense was that Yuuri fancied him a selfish brat. He wanted to tell Yuuri that this really _was_ funny– that he wasn't just laughing like a maniac– but the words wouldn't come out past the shallow pants and smokey exhalations.

It seemed like a lifetime before the door flew open and Conrad stepped in, looking rushed and fearful, tightly hugging a think white blanket to his chest. His eyes traveled from the speechless, frightened king to his hysterical brother, and then the blanket dropped from his hands and he was hauling Yuuri to his feet and dragging him out of the room.

Yuuri shivered as he clung to Conrad, eyes as wide as saucers with little tears welling up in the corners. His voice cracked as he whimpered his godfather's name.

"Get to bed, Yuuri. I'll take care of this. Just get to bed."

With that, Conrad left the boy and closed the door to the room behind him.

---

The next morning, Gisela was leaning heavily against the wall next to the infirmary's door, looking exhausted and a little irritated. Yuuri stood across from her, tired but determined.

"Please, Gisela... Let me see him. I think I just said too much last time. I overwhelmed him or something! I want to see him." He hooked his fingers in front of him and begged mercilessly, eyes wide and pleading.

The healer would have none of it, her eyes spitting fire for a moment before she straightened and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but no. I won't chance a repeat of last night. It isn't healthy to drug him so often, and aside from knocking him out in harsher manners, there's really no other way to get him to calm down." Here, she sighed and muttered, "That boy certainly knows how to throw a tantrum..."

"Isn't there anything I can do? What if I just stand near the door and don't say anything? Can't I just see him?"

"_No_, Your Majesty. I don't know how to say this delicately... Yuuri, I don't think Lord Bielefeld _wants_ to see you."

"So... what, you think he's spurned me or something? Gisela, he _always_ wants to see me. It's impossible to escape him most days!"

The woman shook her head and patted Yuuri's shoulder kindly. "Then consider this a holiday. Go out and get some work done without Wolfram around. Spend time with Greta in the garden or play catch with Conrad while he's not there to pester you. Enjoy it! After all, you always seem so disdainful of the times he tags along." She smiled reassuringly and stepped back inside the room, ready to turn Sergeant on the king if he tried to defy her orders. After a few moments, she heard footsteps retreating and sighed.

Wolfram lay shaking on the bed, eyes glazed and his pillow hugged tightly to his chest. His white nightshirt was soaked with sweat, and the blankets were tangled around his legs. Still, she approached and laid a hand on his back soothingly, her hand glowing green.

"It's all right, Your Excellency. He's gone away now. So calm down, and let's get this nasty burn healed up, okay? And drink some water. It'll wash that sooty taste out of your mouth."

Wolfram obediently sat up and took the glass from the healer, sipping tentatively. After a few moments, he regained his composure. He closed his eyes and sighed lightly, then smirked. Gisela rose an eyebrow in question.

"I'm pathetic, aren't I? I'm an embarrassment to myself in this state, and I don't know how to fix it." He turned his gaze to the woman, imploring her to respond.

"It's really not uncommon after traumatic experiences. I'm sure some time apart from each other and some _rest_ from you will help. If not, then it's more complicated to solve. It could take some counseling or endless reassurance. Mediation, maybe. But you've never been one to nurse mental insecurities." She smiled, and Wolfram gazed upon her with his mouth gaping.

_Mental insecurities?!_

She made him sound crazy!! He was about to reply with an indignant huff and snide remark, and she was fully expecting it, but then his mouth slowly closed and he turned his head to stare at his hands.

Gisela frowned, but said nothing, continuing her light healing and patching. She spread fresh ointment on his arm and changed the bandage on his hand. When Conrad entered the room, she left with a smile, but inside she was worried. Maybe she ought to ask Yuuri what had set Wolfram off yesterday? Maybe there was something she was missing that made him act so strangely? She made a mental note to look into it once she finished her other duties of the day.

---

Yuuri carefully tried again to slide the intricately crossed strings from Greta's fingers to his own, biting his lip as he did so. Whoever thought a child's game could be so difficult? He wriggled his index finger into the tiny space next to his daughters, thinking he finally had it, only to watch in dismay as the string unraveled and slid down Greta's tiny wrists.

"You're not doing it right!" she huffed, a twinkle in her eye. "Do I have to get Anissina to show you how?"

Yuuri's face paled. "Now, now, I don't think we have to go that far. Maybe we should try again later?" he suggested, glancing about for something else to occupy the girl. After flower chains, tag, jump rope and patty-cake, Yuuri was running out of ideas. How did Wolfram keep her occupied all the time?

He was glancing towards the corridors, thinking maybe a light snack might keep her busy for a moment, when he saw Gisela rushing towards the soldier barracks. He wondered briefly if something was wrong until his daughter's cry of delight made him turn.

"Uncle Conrad! Can you show Yuuri how to play cat's cradle? He's hopeless!"

Conrad smiled. "Sorry, Greta, but I'm on my way to the kitchens for a quick lunch. Would you and His Majesty like to join me?"

Something clicked inside Yuuri's mind, and he hoped it didn't show in his eyes. "It's 'Yuuri,' Conrad, and no thanks. I think I should be getting back to work before Gwendal pops a vein or something."

The older man smiled and held out a hand to Greta. "All right, then. Don't overwork yourself, Your Majesty." He grinned at Yuuri's sputtering protests for not using his name and headed for the kitchens.

Yuuri waited a moment, then walked towards Gwendal's office, casting cautious glances over his shoulder. If Gisela was at the barracks and Conrad was in the kitchen, then Gwendal could be with Wolfram.

He pressed his ear to the large wood door and listened, hearing Gunter wailing about some misfortune or another and was sure the earth Mazoku was in his office as well, scowling as usual. And that meant that his fiancé was unattended. He tip-toed quietly down the hall.

When he reached Wolfram's door, he hesitated. What if he really didn't want to see Yuuri? But he had to know that Wolf was all right and that things would be okay between them. He wasn't sure what set the fiery boy off, but he _was_ sure it was Yuuri's fault. After debating whether or not to knock, he opened the door and took a careful step inside.

Wolfram sat at the window, glaring sleepily at the gardens below. No one occupied the space, so Yuuri figured he was probably just daydreaming or sulking.

"It took you long enough, Conrad. If you won't let me get my own food, could you at least be a little fas-" Wolfram turned, saw Yuuri, and stopped. His eyes widened and he shook the tiniest bit.

"Hi," Yuuri mumbled awkwardly, shuffling his feet, still holding onto the knob of the door.

"Get out." Wolfram said, turning back to the window and clutching the blanket draped around his shoulders. He muffled a cough and pulled his legs to his chest.

"Wolfram, please. Don't do this. I just want to talk!"

He turned his gaze back to Yuuri, eyes blazing. "I said get out. There's nothing to talk about."

"Yes, there is. First, I want to know your okay. I'm worried sick about you. And I want to know why you burned your room down. I didn't even know you _had_ a room to burn down." Yuuri shut the door and crossed his arms, half-pouting at the blond.

"I'm just fine, so stop your damned worrying. And if you don't know why I did it, then you don't deserve to know. In fact, you don't deserve _anything_ from me! You're such a... an oblivious fool!" He stood, flustered and let the blanket drop to the floor.

"Don't call me names, Wolf!"

"You're one to talk!"

Silence fell between them as Wolfram panted and coughed into his fist, shivering. Yuuri's mouth hung open, and he gazed at the boy, bewildered.

"I ... I never call you names! I'm not the one calling you a wimp and a cheater and a lousy king and a fool!"

"Oh, but you don't think me a selfish prince and a pretty boy and a snotty brat!"

No, Yuuri didn't usually think that. But he had implied it, hadn't he?

"You know what, forget it, Yuuri. Get out. Go away. I'm through with this, and I'm through with you. Go play that stupid baseball game or something and don't come back here."

Yuuri didn't move, just stared at Wolf as if he'd grown another head.

"GET OUT!"

Yuuri bolted.

---

"'_Accounts are not quite settled between us,' said she, with a passion that equaled my own. 'I can love, and I can hate. You had your choice. You chose to__** spurn**__ the first; now you must test the other.'" - Arthur Conan Doyle, Sr_

-----

A/N: Sorry that took so long. I had a guest from out of town come in and stay for a few weeks, but now I've finished it! I'll revise it better before I post the next chapter. Speaking of which, the next chapter will be...

... Yearning!! Ain't it all that a bag of chips?

Well! I have to go do something useful with my time, like start the next chapter or clean the floor or somethin'.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter Status: Edited


	4. Yearning

The Earning

by: Maeleene

Chapter Four: Yearning

A/N: See end

Disclaimer: Insert witty disclaimer here!

-----

"_**Yearning**__ is not only a good way to go crazy but also a pretty good place to hide out from hard truth." - Jay Cocks _

---

Yuuri plopped onto his bed with a long sigh. Barely an hour, and he'd already gotten an earful from his mother. It wouldn't have bothered him if she'd been ranting about unmade beds and dirty socks. In fact, he'd rather deal with the G-string-under-your-bed talk. Instead, she'd chosen to talk about Wolfram. All thanks to Murata's little 'slip of the tongue.'

_Stupid Murata. That's the last time I bring you back for curry_, he thought venomously.

It was typical, wasn't it? He came back to escape Wolfram, to get him out of his mind. And yet that was all he could think about now. _Why_ did Murata have to say something so stupid?

"_It's so good to see you, Yuu-chan! Are you eating well there? Are you sleeping all right? You look so tired. Did something happen? Where's that handsome fencer? Oh! And that cute little blonde boy of yours? Hmm? Where is he? Are they hurt? Did something happen? I always tell you to stay out of trouble... Ah! Why do you look so upset? Yuu-chan? _Did_ something happen? Hmm?"_

_Yuuri raised his hands and opened his mouth to reassure his mother, but Murata beat him to it._

"_Oh, nothing really. Wolfram just isn't talking to him anymore, and Shibuya's feeling lonely."_

_Yuuri glared daggers at his friend. "Murata!!"_

"_Oops!" Murata laughed, casually scratching the back of his head before shrugging. "Slip of the tongue..."_

And thus the lecture commenced. Murata had very stealthily slipped out the door sometime after the first fifteen minutes. Yuuri couldn't be sure when; he was too busy trying to block out the scolding and romantic advise. He didn't care _what_ his mother said to him. He was _not_ giving Wolfram roses and chocolate. Or jewelry. Or a new dress. Yuuri valued his life.

But something had settled wrong with him. It had happened right before he was allowed to leave the kitchen and escape to his room. One foot had been poised on the first step, his body already shifting his weight to the next and ready to vault up the stairs. But his mother's last sentence had made him pause, had made him think, had somehow ... infected his brain.

"_You know it's okay to love him, don't you...?"_

Obviously, he did _not_ know. But there was something different after that statement. Something was moving inside him, speeding up his heart and making his stomach twist nauseatingly. His head was light and his mouth was dry. And he wanted to see Wolfram with such a _fierceness_ that he hurt.

It was guilt.

It _was_ guilt.

Because if it wasn't guilt, then it was something else, and he didn't want to think about the other possibilities, even as they crept into his head and whispered tauntingly at him.

Yuuri leapt up out of bed with a start. He had to fix things! That would make the guilt go away! He made a dash for the nearest body of water, then dashed back to his room and snatched up the phone.

He'd nearly forgotten Murata!

---

Murata had just settled down into his bed with a book in hand when the phone rang. After the days events, he was sure it was a certain double-black king calling to haul them full-speed back to Shin Makoku. Mama-san _did_ have a knack for getting messages through that thick skull of his. And considering the way they'd left Shin Makoku... Well...

_It wasn't a rare occurrence to walk into the castle just in time to hear Lord Von Bielefeld screaming at his king. It happened almost every time Murata left the Temple to visit his friend, in fact. What _wasn't_ normal was to hear actual hurt in the blond's voice. Or to see Yuuri running away as if all the demons of hell were descending upon him, simultaneously ignoring every question tossed at him regarding his well-being. _

"_What's wrong with Shibuya?" Murata cautiously asked Conrad, whose hands trembled ever so slightly as he tightly gripped a tray of food._

_Conrad attempted a smile. "Lover's spat...?" And then the smile was gone. "Wolfram's not been himself. I'm sure you heard of the fire? Well, before that the two of them had a fight, and now Wolf can't stand Yuuri's presence."_

"_Shibuya isn't handling it well, I take it?"_

"_Obviously not."_

_Murata smiled and adjusted his glasses. "I have a strong craving for his mother's curry..." he murmured before heading off down the halls._

_Scaring the wits out of Yuuri was not his intention, but when the door opened and the king rammed into Murata before the sage could even knock, it was sort of inevitable. After a round of apologies and nervous laughter, Yuuri asked distantly, "Why are you here?" He missed not a beat, quickly walking down the corridor in the direction of the baths._

"_I was actually hoping to head home," the sage responded, a small grin forming on his lips. Yuuri was too distracted to notice. _

"_Why?" The question was meant to be sincere, but Murata wasn't fooled. _

"_Exams." They turned a corner. "You should probably study some yourself."_

"_Yeah, I guess." Another corner, then a shrug. "I probably should. I've been signing papers too long anyway."_

_The door to the royal baths opened, and Murata took the time to close it properly after they entered. "I don't suppose I could stay for dinner?"_

_There was a grunt, and then Yuuri was plunging into the barely warm bath, still fully dressed, and the water begin swirling._

"_If you're coming, hurry up."_

_Murata didn't waste a second, splashing into the growing whirlpool and grabbing onto Yuuri's arm._

_Of course, the sage had never intended to stay for dinner._

_He'd stayed long enough to listen to the beginnings of upheaval after his 'accidental' comment, half-amused. Then he'd slipped quietly out the front door. Even though he'd miss the curry (he really _did_ love it, after all), the yearnings of the heart always ranked above good food._

A smile stretched across Murata's face, and he leaned over to turn the ringer of the phone off.

"Sorry, Shibuya," he whispered. "But you'll have to wait longer than that."

---

Wolfram sighed heavily, then coughed into his hand. Gisela ignored the obvious annoyance and continued to apply the salve to the burn on his arm. It didn't look like it would scar. Or if it did, it wouldn't be very obvious.

"That smell makes my eyes water," the prince complained. When the doctor said nothing, he made a face. "It smells worse than bearbee paint."

Gisela laughed. "I'm not so sure about that, Excellency."

Wolfram turned his nose up and scoffed. "Well, it's certainly just as potent."

She simply shook her head and wrapped a fresh bandage around the burn. Gathering her supplies, she paused, watching as Wolfram readjusted himself on the bench and gazed out the window. If he wasn't interacting with Gisela or his brothers, he was silently staring outside, green eyes looking so... strangely _empty_.

It had been a week since the king had left. Whether Wolfram felt guilty or relieved was hard to tell. Either way, he was obviously not feeling better. She had made a promise to get to the bottom of this, so with a sigh of her own, she sat across from the boy.

"What exactly happened?"

He turned away from the window, and his eyes grew dark as he regarded the healer.

There was a long pause.

"You hear them, don't you?" He smiled a bitter smile. "You even join in, don't you? Those people who call me all sorts of names. Anything from selfish brat to the king's whore. I've grown up hearing insult after insult. I've learned to ignore them. What people say about me is no concern of mine. People will be people.

"But Yuuri was different. Yuuri was supposed to be _different_. I understand that he doesn't love me and he probably never will. But he's treated me differently than anyone else I've ever met. Yuuri wasn't _supposed_ to be people." He paused, blinking rapidly before glancing to the gardens outside. "But he's just the same as them, isn't he? He thinks the same things as them, doesn't he?"

Gisela was about to protest when he spoke again. "I really love him. I can't change that. But he doesn't want me. And he thinks I'm _unreasonable_ about it. Why is it so... difficult to just give me a chance? And then to add insult to injury, he told me what other's say might just be true."

That would explain a lot. She was sure whatever slipped out of the king's mouth was accidental and not intended to be hurtful, but Wolfram was more sensitive then he let on. Had Wolfram ever dealt with a broken heart and broken trust? Probably not like this.

Standing, she patted Wolfram's shoulder and offered a smile. "I'll be back later with some tea, okay? We'll talk some more then." She'd solve this yet. And when she finished patching up the prince, His Majesty would get a good talking to.

---

"_The absolute __**yearning**__ of one human body for another particular body and its indifference to substitutes is one of life's major mysteries." - Iris Murdoch_

-----

A/N: Okay, so... No! I didn't forget about this story. In fact, I thought about it almost every day! Romantic, yes? Well, anyway, I got a bit of writer's block. I have about four different versions of this chapter, not to mention the middle half of chapter six, hanging out in my saved files. This version just happens to be the only decent chapter. Heh!

I have to say, Murata is a hard character to write. My friend and I bounced back ideas for quite a while for that last sentence of his. Things often came out too corny or too... I don't know. Silly. That's also why most this chapter is told in flash-backs. The other versions of this chapter start with Yuuri running away, but when you don't know Murata's motive... The lines are right, but the whole chapter was not! Does anyone else have this problem?

Anywhoodle! Enough of that! (See why I put this A/N at the bottom...?) I've decided I'll just finish writing and probably edit at the end of the story. Unless there's something terribly ridiculous, you'll all get unedited chapters! Yay! So! Leave a review or something! Lemme know how I'm doing! The next chapter will be...

Returning!!

Who saw that coming?

Chapter Status: Revised


	5. Returning

The Earning

by: Maeleene

Chapter Five: Returning

A/N: See end

Disclaimer: It belongs not to me, as I am but a lowly college student with naught an un-loaned penny to my name.

------

_"The world is full of people whose notion of a satisfactory future is, in fact, a __**return**__ to the idealized past." Robertson Davies _

-----

A day and a half. A whole day and a half of waiting and dealing with the 'guilt'. Yuuri swore he was going crazy. He made sure he expressed his annoyance quite clearly to the boy walking beside him.

"I _told_ you I would be studying! I turned the ringer off so I wouldn't be disrupted..."

"I wanted to go back _yesterday_. And why was your phone off this morning? And why are you studying on a Sunday? It's the weekend!!" Yuuri grumped, crossing his arms as he sped his steps to the secluded pond in the park.

Murata sighed and shook his head. "Weekends aren't all about play, Shibuya. Now slow down. There's really no need to rush like this." He grinned suddenly, titling his head as his voice took on a playful tone. "Unless, of course, you're so _eager_ to return to your lover's arms?"

Yuuri growled and slowed a bit, making a show of stomping as he walked. "I really hope you're not referring to Wolfram, Murata. Don't be silly. He's a _boy._"

So his mother hadn't quite gotten through to Yuuri. Still, the blush tinting the Maou's face did not go by unnoticed.

Murata held his tongue as they continued their trek, humming cheerily as he kicked up fallen leaves. They crunched helplessly beneath Yuuri's unforgiving steps, a testament to the boy's irritation, though they both seemed to enjoy the cold fall air. By the time they reached the pond, Yuuri had calmed considerably and Murata was flat out singing with more than a skip to his step.

"Hey, Murata…?" Yuuri questioned cautiously as the approached the water.

The Great Sage tilted his head curiously at his friend, a broad smile on his face. "Yes, Shibuya?"

He caught a glimpse of the Maou's grinning face before something (he wasn't sure, but it felt suspiciously like a hand) slammed into his back, shoving him forward with little grace. As his footing slipped and the icy water surrounded him, he could hear Yuuri tromping in after him with a smug, "Pay back."

---

Wolfram finished tying his cravat with a determined flourish before he looked himself over in the mirror. After several weeks, he could finally breathe deeply without coughing or tasting smoke, and the burn on his arm no longer ached when things brushed against it. There was a faint scar where it had been, a shiny white mark, but it was hardly noticeable and easily covered by his normal uniform.

But it wasn't the minor physical injuries that had kept him from his duties for so long. Those could easily be worked around with enough care. Instead, Wolfram had simply lacked the motivation to do much of anything. He had spent a good three and a half weeks watching the sun shift shadows in the empty garden beneath his window, not minding that his troops were left to train with his more timid Second, nor that the Maou had still not returned from his impromptu trip to Earth. He remained impassive and aloof to everything, save for the brief interactions with his brothers and his daily tea with Gisela and Greta.

It was the visits from his daughter and healer that had lit his days, bringing warmth when he was otherwise cold. Greta especially had eased the aching in his heart and had given him the extra shove back into a semi-normal routine.

_"I miss playing with my papa Wolf..." _she had said one afternoon, rearranging the flowers she'd brought absent-mindedly.

_"Aren't we playing right now?"_

_"It isn't the same as playing outside or in the halls, though. It's hard to hide from your seeking in this room."_

And it was true. He'd tried it a few times, and it was never quite as interesting. But more than anything, it reminded him that Greta needed a father and a playmate and a friend. Especially with Yuuri gone. She had to be lonely.

Walking towards the door now, he allowed himself one deep sigh.

This room had been his sanctuary. It had sheltered him from the outside, kept him safe and hidden and allowed him time to piece his confidence back together. It wasn't much, just a plain bed, a window, a table, a dresser, and the flowers and pictures his daughter gave him to spruce things up. But it didn't need to be much more. And while he remained within it, he felt stronger. It was the distance that gave him this strength, he knew, but it was more than anything outside the doors had given him. He trailed his fingers over the crisp white sheets of the bed, admiring the way the sunlight brightened the cotton and gave it a pristine glow.

He couldn't stay cooped up in this room forever.

He told himself he had to be productive now, more so than before. How much time had he wasted chasing after the king? How much progress could his troops had made in that time? What could have been accomplished? What could have been avoided? There were so many regrets now that even his room could not keep them from invading his mind. And he intended to right every one of his wrongs, erase the past and start anew with a clean slate. There would be no more skipping out on training drills, no more days spent chasing after and chastising that wimp of a Maou. No more waking up late just to have a chance to laze around with Yuuri. No more days of encouraging Greta to skip out on her own lessons because Yuuri would only agree to freely spend time with Wolfram if their daughter was present. Just. No. More.

With that mantra repeating in his head, he opened the door stepped out of his room.

The sunlight from his garden window did not reach the hallway. Though there were windows in the corridor, they were not facing the eastern horizon, and it was still early. He could glimpse the edge of the inner grounds a few floors down, but no flowers decorated the field. At least, not that he could see from where he stood. The grey stones seemed darker than they ever had before, foreign and imposing and nothing like the light wood paneling that decorated his new room, and Wolfram felt much too small as the wall seemed to tower over him. He wanted to turn and flee into his room again. His patchwork pride could no longer shield him from the snide remarks from those around him. He couldn't handle this yet!

But at the end of the corridor, Gisela was making her way towards him, and all he could do was offer her a shaky smile, his hand still poised on the knob of his now-closed door.

"Returning to the real world, Lord von Bielefeld?" she asked with a hint of a smirk when she reached him. Her eyes were kind, soft, like the warm glow of his room, and her words, though playful, held no malice.

Wolfram's smile grew stronger, and his hand slid away from his door. "That I am. Where were you going?"

"I was going to ask if you'd like to have tea in the garden this afternoon. Greta's fond of the idea. It seems she has the perfect place picked out already."

The prince nodded, gaining confidence with this simple conversation."I'd like that. Lunch and tea in the garden." He strode to the end of the hallway, Gisela a step behind him. When he reached the stairs, he felt calmer, composed and ready to face the world again. Gisela paused at the top of the stairs as he trotted down, so he had to call back up to the healer, "Make sure she asks the cook to make her favourite cookies. We can't have a proper teatime without those, and she's forgotten the past few times."

Gisela smiled at retreating form of His Excellency, then shook her head fondly. He was a little shaky, but he finally seemed to be on the mend.

She contemplated following him around quietly, just to make sure he was going to fare well around the others in the castle, but then she shook her head.

Right now it was in her best interests to inform Greta she should pick flowers to sweet-talk the cook with. The ginger cookies were sublime, and Greta could look much sweeter than Gisela ever could.

-----

It wasn't long before the chain of gossiping maids and soldiers delivered the news that His Majesty had returned.

The word spread like wildfire, even quicker than the news of Lord Bielefeld returning to the world of the living. The castle was a flurry of movement as maids scurried to change the sheets on his bed and lay out a dry uniform. The cooks made up a light meal for the king and his sage and sent trays to the sitting room with the closest available staff. A few guards set off to inform the king's advisors.

Conrad and Gunter made haste to the castle fountain, accepting towels from the nearby servants to give to the undoubtedly soaked duo. As they arrived, Conrad helped the Maou out of the fountain as Murata scrambled over the edge unaided.

Even as Gunter wrapped a towel around the king and exalted his return in near-song, the double-black paid no heed. His eyes scanned the courtyard, passing over those gathered, a frown on his face. Eventually, his shoulders slumped and his countenance turned gloomy. He answered questions with grunts and shrugs and neglected to correct the Captain when he called him by his formal title.

The maids turned their heads and whispered. The soldiers bit their lips and glanced suspiciously about. The younger squires and pages gawked and mumbled in low tones, heedless of who might hear them. They all thought the same thing.

The Maou was missing a certain blond prince.

-----

It seemed inconsequential to Wolfram that Yuuri should return on this particular day. He deemed he would not let this affect him in the least. After being out of commission for so long, he _could not_ let the Maou ruin his well planned out curriculum.

Despite Gunter's various attempts at coaxing and urging, he would not greet his king.

"I have troops to train," and, "I have a horse to care for," and, "I have rounds to take," were excuses uttered more than once to the advisor, all with a calculated indifference that could not be ignored. Beneath the aloof exterior and the flat evasions, however, were the remains of an extinguished temper. Ashes. Wolfram was burned out.

His troops exalted his return with exuberant hoots and hollers and were eager to resume training with their lord. Despite his harshness and strict commands, he was considerate of his men and saw to it they improved vastly with every practice. They respected him, looked up to him, and while the second-in-command was not a bad leader, he did not have the experience and fire Lord Bielefeld possessed.

They knew Wolfram was glad to return to the field, but the noticed the deadness in his eyes. His words were the same words as always, and they held the same knowledge they always had, but they were delivered in monotone, with little energy, and by the end of the training sessions, the joyous and high-spirited atmosphere was reduced to only half of what it used to be.

"I heard His Majesty returned today," mumbled one to another as they left the field and commanding officer behind.

His partner nodded. "So did I. The news must've reached Lord Bielefeld as well."

The stopped their whispers as the black-clad figure of their monarch stepped into view, raising his hand in an awkward form of greeting and casting a nervous smile at those still gathered. A glance back and Lord Bielefeld showed their leader becoming stiff, his eyes going wide and blank, his mouth forming a straight, tight line. There was no anger or passion or fear in his presence, just a countenance of _empty_ shining through a hollow gaze.

-----

Murata observed. That was his job. He was refined, enigmatic, intelligent to the point of ridiculousness, and an observer. Simple as that.

But Murata also enjoyed his _own_ form of payback.

He could have advised Yuuri upon stumbling gracelessly out of the fountain. He could of said, "I wouldn't go looking for a certain someone just yet, Shibuya." The words would most likely have been heeded. He was the all-knowing Great Sage, after all.

Still, it was much more fun this way!

They had changed clothing, taken a light snack (though Shibuya did little more than push food around a plate), and taken a cursory glance at the paperwork and studies that had accumulated during their absence. All the while, the Maou had looked about anxiously, fidgeting endlessly and biting his lip. Guilt, he probably called it. Infatuation, thought Murata.

At the first available moment, Shibuya had snaked away, dashing down corridors, peering into rooms, questioning maids. Had he asked his Sage, Murata would have said, "I bet he's drilling his troops," but no such inquiries were made of him.

So while Shibuya stumbled about the castle in a frantic search for his lost fiancé, Murata followed silently, lurking behind pillars, slinking and sneaking in the shadows, a eerie light glinting off his glasses.

He _did_ have to be mysterious, after all.

After an hour or so, a passing soldier finally pointed Yuuri in the direction of the training grounds, and the king thanked his subject exuberantly. He wrung his hands as he made his way there, and Murata inched his way along hedges and stone walls with a feline grin on his lips. This wouldn't go very well, he was sure, but who was he to stop his monarch from making a royally large mistake? One must learn from his actions eventually, anyway.

At the very edge of the grounds, he stopped to engage in pointless banter with one of Lord von Bielefeld's troops, keeping an eye on the distant couple. Yuuri approached warily with twitchy wave of his hand. Wolfram tensed, but the lack of life in his eyes told Murata that he felt no anger. He probably felt very little. For the moment.

"Hey…" Yuuri managed, and Wolfram gave a small nod of his head. His gaze lacked focus, and though he faced the Maou, Murata was positive the prince looked straight through him.

"How are you feeling? It's good to see you up and about again."

Wolfram mumbled something in a subdued manner. A polite response, no doubt, but not personal in the least.

The intriguing exchange caused him to fumble in his own half-hearted conversation.

"Ah," said the troop he was talking with when he caught sight of what Murata was watching. He lowered his voice conspiratorially, leaning forward to whisper, "You know, I don't think Lord von Bielefeld wants to see the King. Isn't that strange? It used to be that he couldn't go a day without tracking him down. A lot of the time, he'd cut our sessions short or canceled them all together. I wonder what happened?"

A frown formed on Wolfram's lip as Yuuri babbled on, but his hands continued to hang limply at his side. It wasn't until Yuuri lightly laid his hand on the blond's shoulder that he snapped, his entire body jolting with the contact and his eyes flaring to life.

And here was the explosion the Sage had been expecting.

"What is wrong with you?! You insult me, leave for over three weeks, come back, indulge in a bit of small talk, and think that will fix it all? Well, think again, Your Majesty!" Wolfram smacked Yuuri's hand away, visibly shaking (though Murata didn't think it was from anger), and pushed past his king. "Good day," he spit out tersely with a stiff bow, then strode away, disappearing into the first door he could find.

Murata patted the troop on his shoulder as a hush fell over the grounds, then made his way over to the shocked Shibuya.

"Didn't go so well?" he asked, feeling much like a cat who finally caught a mouse.

Yuuri frowned, then frowned deeper, and finally said, "No."

Murata nodded. "Maybe you should give him a bit of time? Wait a few days before you talk to him? I heard he's just now getting back into the swing of things. Whatever you said to him to make him snap in the first place is probably still eating at him. I'm sure, given time, he'll calm down enough give _you_ a chance to explain yourself."

Yuuri turned to his friend, then, eyes a clouded with thought. "Why do you always have such good advice?" he asked at last.

"Years of practice, I guess. Of course, I tend to be more open with it when I'm not all scrapped knees and soggy boxers from being shoved into ponds."

Yuuri glared. "You knew this would happen." It wasn't a question.

Murata shrugged, a nervous smile blooming on his face. "I had a hunch. But, I mean, who can guess with Wolfram? He's pretty unpredictable."

The Maou's shoulders slumped and he gave a light sigh. "Yeah, I guess. Hey, did you see Greta while you were sneaking in the shadows behind me?"

The Sage blinked, then laughed. It looked like his sneaky spy skills could use a little work. "Yeah. She was in the private gardens. It looked like she was setting up a tea party with Gisela. How about you get some work done, then play with her before dinner?"

"Yeah. That sounds nice," Yuuri said with a small smile, then made his way with his friend to his office.

-----

_"An angry man is again angry with himself, when he __**returns**__ to reason." Publilius Syrus_

-----

A/N: Look!! A finished chapter!!

Sorry for the ridiculously long delay. I wanted to finish this sooner. First for Christmas, then for New Years, then for anything. So now, for my birthday (Valentine's Day, for those who don't know), I give to YOU the gift of a chapter! Happy early birthday to me! If you're really lucky, and all goes as planned, I'll have a Valentine's Gift for all of you, too. (That means Chapter Six!) That's my hope, anyhow. I already have a good three pages of Six written, but it's the middle of the chapter. So I just have to do a beginning, more middle, and an end. It looks like it'll be a long one!

So the next chapter?

Learning! Yes. Looks like someone's gonna get schooled. Or will be going to school. Or something. :D

Thank you to all who have reviewed and favourite'd and alerted! If I haven't responded, I'm so sorry! I accidently marked as spam on my old e-mail, so I lost a lot of alerts and such. But now I'm using a new e-mail, so I'll definitely respond to you kindly people who give me inspiration and sweet words.

Thank you! And just in case I miss it, Happy Valentine's!

P.S. Does anyone else know the singer Mika? He's awesome. I first heard of him when I watched Wolfram AMV to the song Grace Kelly (Great AMV! Look it up!), and I fell in LOVE with him. Not only is his music wonderful, but every time I think of Wolf singing, I think of Mika now. XD And I getta see him in concert! Yay me!


	6. Learning

The Earning

by: Maeleene

Chapter Five: Learning

A/N: Warning!! LONG CHAPTER! 19 pages, around 8,380 words. :D

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, except my birthday, which is today.

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_"It's the heart afraid of breaking that never __**learns**__ to dance. It is the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance. It is the one who won't be taken who cannot seem to give. And the soul afraid of dying that never learns to live." Bette Midler_

---

A day passed by, then two, and then eventually a whole week. Despite Murata's warnings, Yuuri would sometimes try to approach Wolfram, only to be brushed off and rejected. He was well and truly stumped by the blond's actions. They'd been in fights before, and a lot of the times much worse things were said between the two. He tried asking the Sage for advice, but Muraken could only shrug and say, "He's just not ready yet." Whatever that meant.

Conrad tried to keep the Maou placated, and more often than not, a bout of baseball could take the edge off Yuuri's nerves. He didn't talk as much as they used to as they threw the ball back and forth, but if it helped calm the king down, Conrad didn't mind the silence. But when he was asked how to deal with his volatile brother, he could give no answers.

Yuuri did not even dare ask Gwendal.

He was beginning to despair of never being able to reconcile with Wolfram when Greta said simply, "Maybe you should try getting to know him better!"

The suggestion stumped Yuuri at first. After all, what was there to know about Wolfram? He was loud, clingy, abrasive, and though he was loyal to a fault, he had no qualms about insulting Yuuri.

"He's a really nice papa. But he seems sad a lot of the time. I think he's lonely, like how Greta was before she met you and Wolf."

Yuuri blinked. Lonely? Wolfram? He grew up surrounded by people, all sorts of people. He had two brothers and an overly adoring mother and—

And he was surrounded by people who kept a social distance they daren't cross. He had two brothers, one who was the most stoic man Yuuri had ever met and another whom he felt betrayed by and couldn't quite bridge the gap between them. Not to mention a mother who spent most her time ogling men and away on cruises and was too busy to sit down with her sons.

Lonely.

That seemed to fit him. Wolfram often got a distant look in his eyes. Yuuri just thought he was tired or dazed or bored, but now he saw them differently. There were many lonely expressions, but there were others, too. Yuuri wasn't sure what all of his looks meant. Greta probably had a good idea, but she was still too young to really comprehend them.

"Greta, have I ever told you you're a genius?"

The girl giggled and draped a daisy chain over his shoulders. "Lots of times, Daddy Yuuri!"

Yuuri chuckled and kissed his daughter's cheek, then stood up. "Come on. We have lots of planning to do."

Greta clasped his hand and skipped alongside him. "What are we going to plan about?"

"A way to get Papa Wolfram to talk to me, so I can get to know him better. Just like you suggested!"

"Oooh," Greta said, her eyes filling with the same devious gleam as her father's. If she'd had black hair and an Asian complexion, none would ever guess she'd been adopted when they saw the matching looks of two genius devils about to devise a way to trap a certain unrelenting prince.

---

It had taken pleading. It had taken coaxing. It had taken bribes and begging and even a few sniffles and tears. But Wolfram finally agreed to take a walk in the garden with his daughter and the king.

The plan was simple enough, and Greta was very good at acting. Not to mention looking cute.

"I really m-miss spending time with my fathers…!" she'd hitched out past building sobs. A cup of juice sat untouched in a glass before her, a bouquet of flowers sitting by the elbow of the blond across from her decorating the otherwise plain table. She'd taken just a single bite of cookie before she'd begun her act, and now that lay abandoned on the table beside the cup.

"Greta, please…" Wolfram started, a frown on his face. He swept his hair out of his eyes and sighed as his daughter took shaky breath and scrubbed at the tiny droplets forming in the corners of her eyes. How did she always manage to look so adorable?!

"But _Papa_…." She turned her wide eyes to him and pouted just the tiniest bit. If Gwendal had been in the room, he might have just fainted from the display of utter cuteness.

Wolfram sighed. "Fine. One walk. Just this one time. And not during any of the times I train. Understood?"

Greta gave a watery smile and nodded, looking genuinely pleased by his words.

"Now eat that cookie before I decide to take it myself!"

No one had to tell her twice, and as she nibbled on the baked sweets, Wolfram turned his gaze out to the trees surrounding them. As much as he wanted to please his daughter, he would rather not spend time with Yuuri. He knew it was childish, but he didn't feel he could forgive the king just yet.

---

Greta reported to her other father with a bright smile and a stowed away cookie, the two crouched unnecessarily behind a pillar.

"Report," Yuuri commanded, stuffing the sweet into his mouth before steepling his fingers and waiting.

"The target has agreed to go for a walk, though he says this is the one time he'll do it." She leaned forward, looking carefully around as she did so, then said, "I think it's important we do this right this first time. I don't know how easy it will be to convince him to do this again. He has a strong will." Her eyes showed the severity of the situation.

Yuuri nodded gravely, the considering look on his face ruined by the crumbs scattered around his lips. Still, Greta, the good little worker that she was, kept the stern look upon her face as he rubbed his chin in thought.

"Yes. This next part will need careful planning, then. We can't let on that we've been plotting this. The target must not be suspicious of…" he paused, considering his words. "…Of foul play," he concluded. And thus they began to create a careful trap to keep the prince unaware and right where they wanted him.

---

Wolfram draped his towel around his neck, his hair tangled from his bath. The training had been more advanced today then they had in recent weeks. Maybe it was his nerves, or maybe the eagerness of his troops, but he'd upped the level of difficulty, putting his soldiers through rigorous drills he hadn't practiced himself for quite a while, and he had another squadron of new cadets to instruct later in the day, so it seemed a pointless act to bathe at this time. But today was the day he promised to take a walk with Greta and Yuuri. Part of him felt it would only be fair to make the pair put up with the unseemly odor of sweat and grime, but he just couldn't do it. He was still a gentlemen, after all, and he had standards.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging it thoughtlessly through knots, then reached for a comb. He knew Yuuri thought it was 'girly' of him to have a mirror and sit in front of it. But then again, Yuuri didn't have unruly curls to deal with. _He_ could just run a hand through his hair, or a comb on particularly bad days, and look presentably. Wolfram wasn't so lucky half the time.

As soon as his hair was behaving as it should and no longer a mess of blond tangles, he walked over to his wardrobe and drew out a fresh shirt, slipping it on and buttoning it without a thought. As he pulled on his jacket and buckled on his sword, he wondered briefly how many times he'd done such things. How long had he had his uniform? Very rarely did he wear much else. On formal occasions, he dressed in something fancier, and during the war when he was eventually sent out, he'd worn a much simpler ensemble, but those times were few, especially these days, and he no longer had to concentrate as he dressed himself. It was all automatic.

A knock on his door broke his reverie, and he quickly placed his towel and dirty clothing in small basket beneath his bed, then smoothed down the white sheets again. When he finished, the door was already opening, and Greta bounded inside and jumped into his arms, smothering him with hugs and a sugary kisses.

"Are you ready?" she asked with a giggle, holding one of his hands in hers. At his nod, she pulled him out of his room, not even giving him time to close the door, and down the hall.

"I've been waiting for today all week!" she told him excitedly, and Wolfram smiled softly at her joy. He was pleased to make her happy, but he wished he could do so without having to spend time with Yuuri.

It was the middle of summer in Shin Makoku, though Greta said it was autumn in Japan. Exotic flowers resembling roses climbed up trellises, all of them in full bloom. Many of his mother's unique flowers inhabited their own beds, a cacophony of colours and shapes that was just short of being too busy. Still, the display managed to appeal to the eye, perhaps because there _was_ so much to look at, and in the public gardens they passed, many people stopped to admire the previous Maou's creations.

The private gardens were much quieter, both in atmosphere and arrangement. There gardens were designed to be a reprieve for the castle inhabitants, who were usually swamped with work. The further Wolfram and Greta traveled into the gardens, the less they saw of people. The outer garden paths were made mostly as a rest area for the soldiers and servants. Visiting dignitaries and nobles often ventured further in, but the center of the private grounds was reserved specifically for the Maou, his family, and the members of his inner court. It was there that they found Yuuri, waiting patiently, bent over a bright red Hibiscus-type flower, it's stigma a deeply contrasting blue that almost seemed to glow. When the two approached, he straightened and gave a sheepish grin, but otherwise said nothing.

Greta began to babble, skipping between the two, not forcing them to walk too close, but still keeping them together. Her topics of conversation ranged from her studies to her games to castle gossip, and it occurred to Wolfram that maybe they should get her a friend her age to play with. Though, she didn't seem too lonely, and he didn't fancy talking to Yuuri about it.

Though he listened to Greta talk, he let his mind and gaze wander, admiring the various flowers and landscaping. Yuuri made appreciative noises every now and again, and finally, they reached a bench that Greta settled upon. Wolfram blinked, then sat to one side of her, Yuuri on the other. She continued talking, occasionally prompting responses from one of her fathers. She was obviously excited to be in the company of both of them at once, which hadn't happened since quite a while before Wolf's room burned down.

"Ah!" she exclaimed suddenly, and Wolfram started with a little jump. She pointed to a tiny white butterfly that flitted to and fro a little bit of head. "Can I catch it?" she asked breathlessly, literally bouncing on her hands, looking back and forth between the two boys.

Yuuri gave Wolfram a sort of half smile, as if asking him whether or not it was okay. Wolfram opened his mouth, blinked in mild confusion, then nodded. "O-of course," he said, and Greta hopped off the bench, crawling like a hunter towards her prey, which was currently poised peacefully upon a bright yellow blossom.

With a content sounding sigh, Yuuri braced his hands on the edge of the bench and leaned his weight onto them, looking up at the clouds. Wolfram sat with a stiff posture, his gaze focusing intently on a patch of grass not too far off. Greta's giggles echoed in the near distance, and he was sure the butterfly was thwarting even her best attempts to capture him. The silence grew thick between them, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as it could be.

"Ne," Yuuri said at last, his eyes still following the paths of the clouds. Wolfram turned and looked towards him, waiting.

"Ne," he said again with a sad smile, "I've been thinking a lot lately." He paused, as if expecting Wolfram to tease him, then continued. "You know, it gets a little boring around here when I'm not really busy. I was thinking that I… that I don't really know much about you, and I want that to change."

Wolfram shifted, as if moving to get up but Yuuri straightened and faced him, eyes bright. "I mean, I've known you for a very long time, but I couldn't tell you what your favourite colour is, or food, or what you did when you were little. It seems wrong…."

"That's all well and good, Your Majesty—"

"Yuuri, Wolfram. You never call me by my title."

"—all well and good, but I'd really rather not talk about such things. There's not much point."

Yuuri couldn't help himself. He reached out and clasped one of Wolfram's hand in both of his, leaning forward, a hint of panic flashing over his features. "Wolfram, please! I feel it's important. I want to learn more about you."

The prince was quick to pull has hand away. "No."

"Please…!" Yuuri begged, desperation in his voice. He could here Greta giggling quite a distance away, and yet Wolfram didn't answer. He stayed quiet, letting birdsong fill the space between them, taking his own turn to gaze up at the sky.

Wolfram stood up quickly, his back to his king. "Blue."

"Wha...?" Yuuri frowned, confused.

"My favourite colour. It's blue." Wolf looked over his shoulder at Yuuri. "I like cinnamon on my toast. It's my favourite food to eat for breakfast. I love sweets. I hate bitter drinks. I've never beaten Conrad in a spar, but I did disarm Gwendal once."

Yuuri blinked, taking the information in, still not understanding.

"I love horseback riding. I burnt my crib down as a child. I never ate my peas. I like things to be neat and orderly. It avoids confusion. I didn't get my position or troops by favouritism. I love having tea with Greta. I hate the snow, but I love walking in the rain. I hate being beautiful like my mother. I love daisies. I hate Beautiful Wolframs. I never had an interest in anyone before you. I can paint realistically, but I choose not to. I've read almost every book in the library."

Right, Yuuri realized. He'd wanted to learn everything he could about Wolfram. Was the blond actually giving in?

"And you. You hate dressing in black all the time. Your favourite colour is green. You play baseball every chance you get, and if you're not playing the game, you're throwing the ball back and forth. You love your family, especially your mother. You look up to your brother, even if you act tough around him. Your friends are first in your heart. You care too much about others. You hate prejudices, but carry a few of your own. You're enthusiastic. You like those weird looking sausages from your world. You're confused by our culture, but you're slowly learning it. You hate learning our language. Paperwork makes your hand cramp, even if you don't complain about it. You're more stubborn than a mule, but as timid as T-zou if you want to be. Your clumsy but honest. You're well-loved, kind-hearted, and you hate hurting anyone. But you still hurt me every damn day."

And with that, Wolfram walked away, leaving a very shocked Yuuri behind on the bench.

---

Conrad found the sulking Maou on the same bench a few hours later. Hiding his troubled frown, he took a seat next to the boy and smiled comfortingly. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Wolfram," Yuuri answered simply, then sighed. "No. Me. I'm wrong. I'm all wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"I wanted to learn about Wolfram. I finally convinced him to take a walk with me, which was hard enough as it was. And then he just..." He trailed off pensively, then asked, "Do I really hurt him?"

Conrad paused before answering. On one hand, he wanted to make his godson feel better. On the other, Yuuri wanted Conrad's honesty, not pity. "I'd say you do," he replied at last.

Yuuri gripped his hair in his fists and groaned. "Damn. I don't do it intentionally! I don't even know what I do to make him so upset half the time!"

He couldn't help it. Conrad chuckled. "Why don't you try doing nice things for him?" he suggested, eyes full of mirth, despite the half-glare Yuuri was giving him.

"Like what?"

A smile. "I don't. Certainly, you know some of the things he likes?"

The smile was returned. "Well, now I do."

---

It was raining. In some ways, that was a good thing. Wolfram liked the rain, especially warm rain like this, and he could spend the day inside with Greta. On the other hand, he had to cancel training with his troops. Wolf sighed. Well, it couldn't be helped. He posted a cancellation notice at the barracks, the quickly hurried to breakfast. It was still early. With any luck, he could avoid the family meal.

He arrived at the dining hall, shaking out his short cape and muttering. A cough made him pause and look up. Yuuri sat at the table, a sickly sweet smile on his face. The table itself was set for three, with Greta sitting one seat down from the king. A matching smile was on her own cherub's face, and Wolfram backed up a step subconsciously.

"We made you breakfast, Papa Wolfram!" came his daughter's cheery voice.

Why was she up this early anyway? And with Yuuri, no less!

"Come and sit down, Wolfram. The food's gonna get cold!"

Emerald met black, cold distrust to warm honesty. And then, carefully, slowly, Wolfram circled the table and sat at the place obviously meant for him. He scooted a little closer to Greta, but the fact he was sitting there at all seemed to make Yuuri endlessly happy.

"We made you a feast!" Greta said happily, clapping her hands together and eyeing the covered dishes hungrily.

Yuuri nodded at Greta's words, then stood and uncovered the trays spread across the table. The first things he revealed were an assortment of fruits and a sweet cream to dip them in as well as a few tarts covered with a sugary glaze. Greta gave a whoop of joy, explaining that it was one of her most favourite things to eat.

Next was a side dish of plain rice that stuck together surrounded by the tiny little sausages that Yuuri liked to eat. They had happy little faces carved onto them, and Wolfram thought they were both cute and disturbing all at once.

He pulled a cloth off of a simply woven basket to reveal some sticky sweet rolls, a rare food to find from the cooks so early, but a delight none the less. A few croissants were also added into the mix.

And last was a large tray of toasted bread with melted butter and cinnamon on top, as little bit of sugar sprinkled on for good measure. The scent of it wafted towards Wolfram, tantalizing, and he bit his lip as he looked at meal.

"We made most of it ourselves!" chimed in Greta after Yuuri finished presenting it all, and she smiled wide. "Daddy Yuuri is not the best of cooks, but I tested the food so I know it doesn't taste yucky!"

"That was very considerate of you, Greta," praised Wolfram, helping her grab the tray of fruits just out of reach of her stretched out fingers. Yuuri settled back into his chair and heaped some rice onto his plate, humming just under his breath.

The fact he seemed to remember what his favourite food was did not go unnoticed, and Wolfram remained politely civil until the end of breakfast, happily indulging in the delightful foods until he was stuffed.

---

It was a challenge to get himself out of the king's and his daughter's company, but Wolfram was not about to let a little meal bribe his forgiveness. He kissed Greta's cheek and told her to come find him later, then bowed to Yuuri and thanked him for breakfast. And then he left, simple as that. Yuuri hadn't pushed him to converse personally, though he had carried on an impressive one-sided conversation with himself with the occasional amiable comment from Greta. Wolfram had been content to listen and enjoy the food until they'd mentioned their plans for the rest of the day.

Wolfram drew the line at breakfast.

He made his way to his room, stopping a soldier along the way and asking him to find a maid to bring him firewood. He never asked for someone to light a fire for him. He was perfectly capable of that himself, after all, but he didn't fancy running half way across the castle just for a few bits of dry wood.

As soon as he closed the door, he collapsed upon his bed, heedless of the dampness from his cape seeping into the sheets and the tracts of remnant dirt smearing into his coverlet form his mud caked boots. He shivered and groped blindly about for a simple blue blanket, then slowly began drifting. He wasn't asleep, but when the maid came in with a load of wood, he didn't get up to help her, and he did not protest as she fumbled, inexperienced, with a flint to spark the tinder.

---

Yuuri watched as Wolfram left the dining hall, a finger poised upon his chin. The prince seemed tired. Not in the sense that he hadn't gotten enough sleep (he always got enough sleep), but like he was just worn out.

"Ne, Greta," he said at last, turning to the girl. She blinked up at him and tilted her head. "Why do you think Wolfram looks so tired?"

The princess chewed on her lip for a while, looking around the room as if searching for answers. At last she said, "Well… he's always seems tired lately. I think it is because he …" she paused, tapping her lip with a finger, " ... wants things to be good again."

"Eh?"

Greta shrugged. "Back when Greta first came to Shin Makoku, Yuuri Daddy and Wolfram Papa were always together. It looked like you were really having fun, even if you were always saying he was annoying. You smiled at each other a lot. Now Papa is sad all the time, and I think he wants to be happy again."

Yuuri mulled this over. It sounded probable. Then he nodded and said, "Thank you, Greta. Your advice is as priceless as always." He smiled at her beaming face, then gave her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. "Now, I have go do _kingly_ things." They both knew what that meant, and Greta nodded.

"You won't spend all day on it will you?" Greta asked.

"Of course not! I'll take a break and come play with you, and we can figure out what to do next for Wolfram."

The girl nodded and shooed him away happily, and Yuuri left, laughing as she literally pushed him out the door.

"The sooner you start, the sooner you'll finish!" she called after him, and he chuckled as he hurried down the hall.

---

Doing 'kingly things' consisted mainly of reviewing documents, propositions, and trade agreements, and then signing them until he was sure his hand would fall off. His wrist was particularly sore today by the time he'd finished enough work to take a break. He it blamed on the chilly weather, so he decided he might as well see if Gisela had something to help. He didn't like complaining, but it was creaking a bit, and the odd look Gwendal gave him when he popped the joints in his wrist was enough to convince him a little outside help might be called for this time.

He'd probably end up with arthritis by the end of the year with the way things were now.

When he reached the door to the healer's workroom, he knocked timidly. If she was too busy, he'd leave her be. He'd hate to inconvenience her for something so small, all because he was the Maou. But when she opened the door and he peaked in, he saw no one else was there, just a book lying open and upside down on the table to mark the page next to some herbal salves that she may or may not have been tending to. He squinted, trying to make out the title on the front cover, and thought he distinguished the words 'plant' and 'guide', but he wasn't positive. The language here was still hard for him to decipher without help.

"What brings you here, Your Majesty?" the healer asked politely, though she seemed a little disgruntled by his presence. Maybe he _had_ interrupted her?

"Oh, if you're busy, it's fine. I can come back la—"

"I'm not busy. What can I do for you?" She stepped aside to allow him entrance, then made her way to the stool beside her workbench.

Yuuri blushed and held up his wrist. "It's just … my hand's a little sore today. I was hoping there'd be a salve or something to help ease the muscles."

Gisela nodded with a half smile and turned to some pots and jars on the table. As she mixed things together, she asked about the intensity of the pain, how often it happened—basic doctor questions—and Yuuri answered each as best he could.

As she worked the various herbs with a pestle, she said, "I know it isn't my business, Your Majesty, but I was hoping I could talk to you about Lord von Bielefeld."

Though her words were polite, her tone sounded suspiciously like The Sergeant, and Yuuri cringed involuntarily. Glad her back was to him, he tugged on his collar and stuttered out, "Y-yes? What about him…?"

The healer's shoulders went rigid and her back straightened, her fingers clenching around her tools. Her movements were precise, harsh, and Yuuri wondered if she'd ever handled a sword. If she could do so with such disciplined movements, he wouldn't be surprised if she could take on Conrad and put up a good fight.

"While you were away, he and I often spent time together. He interacted very little with people outside his family, whom he didn't feel comfortable talking with, and so we chatted often, over tea with Greta or while I was tending to his burns."

Yuuri nodded, feeling an unfamiliar stab of jealousy at the announcement. He squirmed on his own stool, trying to shake the feeling off and wondered why it was there in the first place.

"As a healer, my job is not just to tend physical wounds, Your Majesty," she said in a rye tone of voice, as if she knew just what Yuuri felt. She paused to let that sink in before continuing. "I deemed it necessary to get to the bottom of this problem. He couldn't spend the rest of his life locked up in that small room with a beaten ego and shattered pride. It wasn't easy, but I did get him to tell me."

At this, Yuuri perked up. Until she turned a terrifying green gaze at him, and felt the fiercest urge to run before the pestle in her hands bludgeoned his skull in. When her arm thrust out and she brandished the pestle towards him, he jumped off the stool with a squeak of fright.

"If I may speak so boldly, Your Majesty," she did not wait for his approval, "you are a jerk!"

Yuuri blinked, surprised, terrified, and completely blown away. "Um?" he managed.

"You are completely oblivious to him and his thoughts of you, aren't you? You're so insightful, ridiculously aware of how others perceive the world and the people around them, and yet you are blind to _his_ views. You see him as a petulant child who throws tantrums for attention; you fail to see through his mask. Yes, he can be rude and prideful and harsh, but that's all a front! How you can see through other people so easily yet not know this is unfathomable to me."

Yuuri slowly lowered himself onto his stool again, shoulders drooping and his gaze on the floor. But Gisela was not done yet.

"Lord Wolfram has led a lonely life, Your Majesty, and as the beautiful third son of the previous Maou, he's been the center of gossip and speculation for most of his life. In case you _haven't_ noticed, he bears a strong resemblance to his mother. For some reason, people assume that to mean he takes on her own moral code and ideals, which is plain rubbish. He learned long ago to turn his eyes and ears away from the nobles and maids and even townsfolk gossiping about his potential bedmates."

Yuuri flushed, somehow not quite expecting that.

"However, when he was slapped by a certain new Maou—"

"It was an—!"

"—accident? The people don't care about the details. Well, they thought he was either settling down with true love, or dallying yet another romantic involvement of the less than favourable sort. Of course, when the people saw that their king had no feelings for his fiancé, the gossiping became unbearable. On top of comparisons to his brothers, his fiery temperament, his famous tantrums, and accusations of favouritism, he was now the unloved whore of the Maou."

Yuuri winced involuntarily and the harshness. He'd never heard such accusations, but then, people tended not to idly banter about such things with the Maou right there. To doubt the truth of Gisela's words would be stupid.

"And _still _he put up with it! Ignored it all and concentrated on gaining your favour, all the while trying to pretend that you might someday validate your engagement to save his name and make such scandalous rumors cease."

She paused, taking a deep breath, and lowered the pestle she had been gesturing with. She seemed a little worn as she turned back to her work, her movements slow and lacking the power they'd had before.

"Perhaps this isn't for me to tell you, but Shinou knows he won't do it himself. I'm a good twenty years old than Lord Wolfram, and I have not always lived in the castle. Still, when I visited my father here, I'd often play with him when he was younger, and I kept him company when he was older. I was even transferred to the same regime he was during the war, and so, while we are not the closest of friends, I know more about his personality than you might suspect.

"He doesn't trust people, Your Majesty. He never really has. He's never had many friends, and the few he did either died in battle or drifted away once he grew fully into his noble status. He's learned not to give his heart away to others. But you are different, in case you haven't noticed. Somehow, I think you managed to wedge yourself past his barriers and into his heart. You're dear to him, and so your opinion of him rides higher than that of anyone else's. That's why he was able to stand tall against worsening slander, that's why he followed you around endlessly, that's why he wore his heart on his sleeve for you."

Biting his lip, Yuuri turned away from her. Even though her back was turned, he didn't want her to see how uncomfortable those words made him feel, nor the guilt they brought rushing to show on his face.

"Do you remember what you said to him that day you fought?"

Yuuri shrugged, and said quietly, "Not really. It was like most of our arguments, but I was just irritated that day. Whatever I said, I didn't mean it."

Gisela reached out for a small canister of some powder and a tiny measuring spoon. "You said, 'I'm beginning to think they're right about all your silly nicknames!' You told him he was being unreasonable in his jealousy. You confirmed every rumor, taunt, insult, and slander ever said about him."

Yuuri's head shot up, mouth open to protest her proclamation, but she raised up a hand.

"I know it was unintentional on your part, but that's how he feels about it." She smiled in a sad way. "He acts all tough and aloof, but he's really just a big baby. Beneath all his masks and acts, he's vulnerable. While he'd never admit that, it's the truth. And because he trusted you and loved you, your words meant more than they should have. Whether or not you meant them is not the point now. The point is, _how do you fix this_. Right?"

The smile she gave him was more appreciated then the finished jar of salve, and he couldn't help but return it, despite his guilty conscious.

"I assume you want to fix your wrongs, Your Majesty, so I'll help you. Do you have any idea of what to do?" She tilted her head, pushing back a loose strand of hair.

The king turned to look out at the stormy clouds thickening outside, and he smiled. "I hear he likes to walk in the rain."

---

A knock on the door made Wolfram sit up, though grudgingly, and he called out a command to enter.

The door creaked open, and in stepped Gisela with a tray of tea and a smiling face. She took note of the blanket wrapped around his shoulders and the streaks of dirt on the white sheets and shook her head good-naturedly.

"Lazing the day away, Lord Wolfram?"

The blond shrugged. "I guess."

She held up the tray. "We didn't see you at breakfast, so I thought some late morning tea might be appreciated."

"Ah, actually… I had an early breakfast."

"Oh?" The healer tilted her head, waiting for him to continue.

Wolfram nodded. "Yes. You can set the tray on the table. If you're willing to put up with my rumpled appearance, a bit of tea would still be appreciated."

Gisela did so happily, arranging the table as Wolfram settled himself into one of the cushioned chairs. When she finished, she sat down herself, drawing her knees up and cradling the warm cup in her hands. She looked completely ready for a story, her eyes gazing at him expectantly, a polite smile on her face.

With a sigh, Wolfram rolled his eyes and picked up his own cup. "Yuuri and Greta seemed to expect I'd take an early breakfast."

"Well, you've been doing so since you returned," she pointed out with a grin, then sipped her tea with a twinkle in her eye.

"Ah, yes, well…. I felt it would be rude to deny them after they worked hard, especially Greta. But I felt drained afterwards. Since I cancelled training to day," he said, tilting his head towards window to indicate the rainy backdrop, "I figured I might as well take some time for myself today." He paused, uncomfortable, and mumbled, "You did say I should I felt worried or anxious or anything…."

Gisela nodded. "That I did, Lord Wolfram. I'm glad you finally took my advice!"

Wolfram humored her with a slight grin before swallowing down some sweetened tea. Gisela like her tea a bit more bitter, but she always brought an abundance of sugar for him when they took tea together. Ever since they were younger, she'd learned a few select things about him, including his love of sweets and sweet drinks.

She set her cup down and placed her elbow on the armrest her chair, propping her head up in her hand. "If you're inclined to accept more of my advice…?" Though her words were formal, the atmosphere was casual, more like two friends chatting over drinks than a healer visiting her most stubborn patient. Wolfram nodded to show he was listening, and she continued. "Perhaps a walk might do you some good."

The prince looked up and quirked an eyebrow. "You're not afraid I'll catch a cold?" There was a dry humor in his voice, and Gisela chuckled.

"Not really. But if you do, it'll give me a chance to subject you to more disgusting medicine." He grimaced, and she laughed. "But truly, Lord Wolfram, I think a bit of fresh air might help free your mind up. The rain is rather nice today, too. Much cooler than the rest of the days this week."

They _had_ been having some ridiculously hot days, he'd give her that. But he really didn't need much convincing at all.

"All right. I'll go after tea."

Gisela nodded, as if expecting this, and picked up her tea again. Before taking a sip, she said, "Though, you may want to change your clothes a bit. You look a bit like a drowned cat that's dried out but hasn't been groomed. Not to mention, there's a smudge of dirt on your cheek."

Wolfram hurled a sugar cube in her direction, and they finished their tea in laughter and good spirits.

---

Wolfram made his way to the mudroom cheerily, feeling much lighter than he had in a while. He'd a good breakfast, a restful morning, a delightful break for tea, and now he had the chance to take a long walk in the rain, which looked like it was only going to get heavier as the day went on. He passed others in the halls and nodded his head in acknowledgment, more than he'd done since the fire, and there was a slight spring to his step.

He snatched up a sticky bun from the kitchen next the mudroom, and took the maids' complaints in good humor, even promising not to track in mud once they found out he was about to take a walk. They shooed him off, and he hurried from the room with a chuckle.

Sitting on a chair in the mudroom was Greta, who must've been in here for quite a while. She was trying her best to lace her longer boots up all the way, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. She had on a pair warm knitted tights to keep her legs dry and a skirt Jennifer had given her last time she'd come to Earth. It was a sweet light green with a patched heart on one side, though there was no hole in the skirt, and over all of that was her unbuttoned raincoat. The violet canvas was oiled to repel the rain, and it had a row of little heart buttons to decorate it. His own mother had given her the jacket, exclaiming how cute she'd look in it, but there had been no rainy days to try it out with so far.

He cleared his throat, and she looked up at him with a start, the laces falling from her hands. And then she pouted. "I almost had it, Papa Wolf!"

He smiled and knelt in front of her, picking up the laces in his hands and carefully threading them through rimmed holes on the side of the boot. "Well, a little help will get you out there sooner, don't you think?"

Greta beamed. "I suppose so!" She swung one booted leg back and forth as he laced up the other. "Are you going for a walk, too, Papa?"

Wolfram nodded. "That I am. Shall I join you?" Walking alone would be nice. Walking with his daughter would be even better.

She paused her movements then, tilting her head and looking thoughtful. "I'm meeting Daddy Yuuri in the garden." She frowned. "I know you don't really want to see him…."

The prince said nothing, hiding his disappointment as he tied the leather strings into a bow.

"But I'd love to walk with you until that point!"

Wolfram smiled softly and helped her off the chair, sliding and lacing his own boots on with ease. "That sounds wonderful, Greta. It would be my pleasure."

So the two started out, Greta snatching up an odd looking cane leaning next to the door. She splashed in puddles as they went, laughing as Wolfram cried out in protest when the water hit him. She skipped around him in circles, the rain matting down her curls and darkening her hair. She looked angelic despite the messy appearance, and he thought for the millionth time how lucky he was to have met her.

It was too short of a time before they saw a dark figure looming in the distance beneath an archway. As they drew nearer, Wolfram could make out the black of his uniform peaking out beneath the green of his greatcoat. Greta gave a cheer and rushed towards him, tugging Wolfram along after her. When they got close enough, she let go of him and threw herself into Yuuri's waiting arms.

"Hello, Greta! I've been waiting for a while. Did something happen?"

Greta looked embarrassed and admitted, "I was having trouble with my boots, but Papa Wolfram helped me, so it's okay!" Then she scuffed her toe on the ground. "Sorry to have kept you waiting in the rain for so long."

Yuuri chuckled. "It's fine, Greta. Besides, it's pretty dry underneath this arch." And it was true. Though damp, it was generally sheltered from the rain, and Yuuri didn't look that wet. He'd probably gotten wetter just walking this far than he had while waiting.

He glanced up at Wolfram and asked shyly, "Is Wolfram joining us today?"

The blond frowned, looking down at the pair. "I don't thi—" Greta began, but Wolfram interrupted quietly.

"For a little bit, yes." The two looked surprised by this, and Wolfram shrugged. "I might as well. I came out here for a walk, and I love spending time with Greta."

"Ah!" the girl suddenly exclaimed, looking shocked. Both of them turned to her, looking worried. "The time! I just remembered! I have somewhere to be!"

"You're not coming with us?" Yuuri asked, more than surprised. This might just put a kink in their plan! She said herself that this was a _very delicate operation_!!

"Sorry, Daddy, Papa. But I just remembered that I'd promised Anissina I'd help her with her work today! We're playing with colours today!" Whatever those colours were meant to do, neither boy wanted to know.

Yuuri turned an apologetic smile towards Wolfram, but the prince was staring off at the darkening clouds. They were rolling in with a distant rumble, ominous, but Wolf's eyes were alight a certain _longing_.

Greta reached forward and tugged on the blond's hand, and his gaze snapped to her questioningly. With a smile, she handed him the odd cane she'd brought with her, a thing with an light pink canvas with dark blue plaid. Her brown eyes glitter with joy and she said, "Grandma Jennifer gave it to me for when it rains! You and Daddy can use it on your walk. But make sure you give it back to me afterwards!" And then she turned and fled, not giving Wolfram the opportunity to return the contraption. He looked at it, wondering how exactly it worked and whether or not he wanted to walk with Yuuri at all.

"Here," Yuuri said, taking the contraption and turning it so the point faced the ground. Then he slid his hand beneath the pink folds and worked some sort of magic. With a small _poof!_ it opened, and Wolfram understood its purpose.

There was a circle of dryness where the span of the umbrella repelled the rain. If one were to walk under it, they'd stay dry. It seemed like a smart invention to Wolfram, who loved walking in the rain but hated the damp chill that inevitably followed.

"It's an umbrella. Wanna test it out?" Yuuri offered with childlike exuberance. That goofy grin of his was plastered on his face again, and Wolfram, though hesitant, couldn't help but nod his head yes. The king gave a cheer, then propped the umbrella up between the two of them to walk beneath.

They wandered aimlessly along various garden paths, the rain increasing steadily. Even though the sky was dark, the flowers seemed to radiate a subdued sparkle. Maybe it was the drops of water decorating the petals like pearls, or maybe it was just some form of Mazoku earth magic. Either way, the effect was not lost on Yuuri as he walked quietly with the prince.

Wolfram glanced every now and again at the underside of the umbrella. The raindrops on the outside looked like little shadows from the inside, barely perceptible through the pink and blue pattern, but that didn't seem to fascinate Wolfram much anyway. Instead, his eyes followed the lengths of the thin metal rods and the small pins that allowed them the flexibility to fold or straighten. To Wolfram, they looked like an odd spider web, and he marveled at the structure.

When Yuuri caught him staring at it for the third time, he asked, "Do you want to know how it works?"

Wolfram started, turning to him with eyes full of poorly suppressed curiosity. "I think I get the basic idea of it. It's just … the details…." He trailed off with a shrug and looked away from Yuuri.

The king smiled, circling his fingers around Wolfram's wrist and pulling him in the direction of a gazebo. Though startled, the blond did little to resist. When they stumbled up the steps to stand beneath the covering, he let the umbrella down and shook it out. Smiling at Wolfram, he pointed out the different parts. Then he handed it to the blond to try out himself. Cautiously, Wolf pushed the latch up past the 'little horn thingies' until he felt it click into place, then nearly dropped it with a squawk of surprise as it flew open. And then he broke out into unbridled laughter, Yuuri joining in.

When the two had calmed down again, they set back out into the gardens, the mood between them easier than it had been in a long while. Though they spoke little, it was with also with little hostility, and soon it was like nothing had gone wrong at all.

When the rolling thunder they'd heard in the distance earlier closed in on them, and lightening flashed in the sky, Yuuri suggested they head back.

"It's just a bit of lightning," Wolfram murmured, though he seemed a little sad.

"Then we should at least close the umbrella." Wolf raised an eyebrow, and Yuuri shrugged with a small chuckle. "It's mostly made of metal. Mom always tells me not to wave metal around when there's lightening. You know, 'cause it attracts electricity and all."

The prince stared blankly at him, not understanding in the least. Attracts electricity? He frowned and asked, "_What_…?"

The rain pelted down on the pair as Yuuri closed the umbrella and scratched his head, as if trying to find an explanation. "I guess it's kinda hard to explain…." He thought about all his science classes and his head spun at the idea of repeating it all. But Wolfram looked genuinely curious, and they had been getting along so well!

Their clothes were slowly getting soaked as the stood outside, no longer protected by the umbrella, with Yuuri thinking, and Wolfram thinking Yuuri was insane. Lightning flashed, closer now than it had before, and it seemed to knock Yuuri out of his reverie.

"Ah! All right, I'll explain it to you. But can we do it inside? In front of a fire?" He laughed sheepishly, gesturing to his wet clothes. "It's kind of damp out here now."

Wolfram nodded, and they headed back the way they'd come, sloshing through puddles and talking about the science of weather. Yuuri slipped in a patch of slick mud and fell to the ground, landing rather ungracefully on his backside and sending mud flying up to hit Wolfram, too. They both laughed at his clumsiness, continuing on their trek back to the castle. By the time they'd reached the back door Wolfram had left through, they were soaked to the bone, both of them dripping puddles on the floor of the mudroom. One of the maids rushed to them immediately, taking their wet cloaks and the umbrella, offering them some towels and ushering them to a warm kitchen fire. All the while, their conversation continued, Wolfram asking questions and Yuuri stumbling through explanations.

At the end of lesson, Wolfram was both confused and inspired, feeling like there could be a lot of uses for such a power. Of course Mazoku who controlled weather could manipulate it to their advantage, but knowing that the power of it could be used by those without a contract with the elements for small purposes made his head reel with possibilities. And the thought of Anissina finding out about this scared him witless.

They sat in silence before the roaring fire, legs spread out before them and cups of warm tea in their hands. Yuuri noticed the way the flames reflected in Wolfram's green eyes and how his drying hair almost seemed to frizz with curl, not at all the groomed and perfect visage he normally maintained. It was funny, he thought, because he always supposed Wolfram would look much more perfect in such a scene, with his hair properly arranged (even if it was wet) and his cuffs buttoned and collar stiff. Instead, he looked like anybody else, just with better looks than most, and something about that made Yuuri like him all the more.

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_"Real love, I've __**learned**__, is a very, very strong form of forgiveness." Unknown_

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A/N: All right! The ending is not so well edited, so you must forgive my errors! However, I really wanted to give all your Valentine's Day gift, and I'm about to go to a Mika concert! Really, my ride is here now. :D So I'm afraid I'll make this short.

Next chapter: Turning. With an invisible 'point' beside t. So it'll be important!

Hope you like this long chapter. A little bit of sweetness for the holiday, though! Much love! Happy Valentine's Day!


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